“The sea bids you teach, oh, pines, “Sing low in the moonlight, “Teach the gold of patience, “Cry gospel of gentle hands, “Cry a brotherhood of hearts, “The sea bids you teach, oh, pines.” “And where is the reward, little shell? “What says the sea? “Long has our brother been silent to us, “Kept his message for the ships, “Puny ships, silly ships.” “No word says the sea, oh, pines, “No word says the sea. “Long will your brother be silent to you, “Keep his message for the ships, “Oh, puny pines, silly pines.” STEPHEN CRANE. SIDE TALKS WITH THE PHILISTINES: BEING SUNDRY BITS OF WISDOM WHICH HAVE BEEN HERETOFORE SECRETED, AND ARE NOW SET FORTH IN PRINT. Mr. Laurence Hutton, who writes book advertisements for _Harper’s_, says—but goodness gracious! who cares what Laurence Hutton says? * * * * * Two rather remarkable communications have occupied desk room in the office of John Badenoch, Chicago’s chief of police. The letters arrived at a grievous moment, for John, who is a Scotchman, was stinging under a national complication which arose in Milwaukee when a Teutonic jury decided, with much frothing at the mouth, that a bagpipe was not a musical instrument, but a doodle sack. Figure then this mighty chief of blues coming down early to be confronted with a double decker in a literary way quite beyond his unco’ snod temper. One began, “Dear Badenoch: See to _this_ will you and oblige——?” “This” was a tumultuous flutter of philology disturbed to fathomless import, and it wound up with a tremulous avowal of anticipated success likely to hail a gathering of the violet-crowned and bulging foreheads of Chicago’s ham-strung literati, which clan had engaged to frisk anon at a naughty vaudeville performance. But success is invariably attained under violent intimidations in Chicago, and the sprinting fawns of magazine genius who were giving the entertainment grew frightened of its lofty promises and penned “this” for protection: “What I wish you would do, father, is to see Badenoch and beg him to put on a special detail of policemen to handle the crowd which will inevitably pack the street leading to our rooms the night of the show. You can understand that so many of the celebrated authors and poets of Chicago convening at once will be of the most tremendous public interest, and there will surely gather there an unruly mob come to catch a glimpse of the celebrities. The officer on this beat can never handle the herd alone, we are certain. Fix things.”